She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice.
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